


The Boy With No Name

by msummer300



Series: Earth 127 [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22356133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msummer300/pseuds/msummer300
Summary: A mysterious super-powered teenager claiming to be Superman has popped up in Honolulu. Intrigued, and possibly with some ulterior motives, Tim Drake goes to investigate, but the more he learns, the more questions he seems to have. It seems this new Superboy is somehow even more mysterious than he first appeared,
Series: Earth 127 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1575403
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	1. A Mysterious Stranger

Tim Drake crouched atop a high rise overlooking the ocean in Honolulu, Hawaii. A cool breeze blew in from the sea and he let it wash across his face. The air smelled fresh and clear, and the night sky above was a beautiful glittering map of stars. He could see why so many people considered Hawaii to be an absolute paradise. Tim wasn’t here for a vacation, though. He was here to work. See why he was on top of a highrise instead of lounging on a balcony or on the beach somewhere below.

Still, the location wasn’t the only good thing about this mission. This particular mission was part of a personal project of his. He was trying to restart the Teen Titans. Not the original Teen Titans, obviously. Tim himself had never been a member of the Titans; they’d disbanded way before he’d ever even thought of taking up the cape, and anyway the originals were all in their twenties now. No, this would be a brand new group of superteens. All Tim had to do was find them.

Kid Flash had been easy. Of course, Tim was pretty sure Barry Allen had been looking for literally any excuse to get that particular super-powered bundle of energy out of his house for a few hours, but the kid was fun and good at what he did and really Tim couldn’t have asked for a better speedster to add to his team, so he was happy to have him. But two teenagers did not a super-team make, which is what brought him to Honolulu.

Tim didn’t usually pay attention to Hawaii. It had its problems, sure, but it was downright idyllic compared to Gotham. At least, it was until two weeks ago, when a mysterious new super-teen who insisted that he was, in fact, Superman had come out of nowhere, bringing a whole host of shiny new problems with him-- not the least of which being that a similarly super-powered rogues gallery had apparently sprung up out of nowhere to meet him. A few nearby streets were the recently demolished proof of that.

Tim didn’t know much about this new Superman. Not that there was much to know. Even though everyone who’d seen him described him as flamboyant and hard to miss he had somehow managed to almost completely avoid cameras. Tim did know a few things, however. He knew this person wasn’t actually Superman and, more importantly, he knew that the actual Superman had been just as surprised as anybody by his appearance. He knew this new Superman could definitely fly, and he definitely had super-strength. He didn’t know if he had any of Superman’s other powers, but to be safe he was prepared to deal with them. He also didn’t know if Kryptonite could hurt him-- or if anything else could for that matter-- but he’d brought some along anyway, just in case things went south.

The last thing he knew, and the most critical to the current moment, was that while no one knew exactly where Superman went when he wasn’t busy being Superman, he seemed to favor this part of the city. This struck Tim as a bit odd, given that he was smack in the middle of the business district. He figured Superman probably didn’t actually live in this area, but he was a detective, and this struck him as a good place to start looking for clues.

And, right off the bat, he’d found a pretty big one. He’d hacked into the security feeds for buildings and traffic lights in the area and mapped out which ones he showed up on and what direction he was going when he did. Those had suggested that he frequented this building in particular, and sure enough, the infrared lenses in his mask showed someone was moving around inside. Of course, that could easily be a security guard, but he figured it was still worth checking out. Worst that happened, he spooked the guard.

He stood up and adjusted the straps that criss-crossed across his chest. It had only been a week since he’d officially relinquished the title of Robin to his replacement, taking up the oh-so-original name of Red Robin instead. Jason had called the name choice a cop-out, but the suit was significantly more distinct, and as a result, it came with a period of adjustment. He liked the way it looked, though, and it was easy to forget about the differences from the Robin suit in a fight.

He pulled out his grapple gun and prepared to rappel down to the top floor window adjacent to the one he'd seen the figure in. Right as he was preparing to step off the edge, a loud, bubbly pop song started blaring from directly underneath him. He almost fell off the roof.

“What the heck?” he muttered. He waited to see if anything else would happen. After a few minutes, the song ended and a different, slightly less bubbly pop song started playing. Tim sighed. He was just going to have to go down and see what it was. So, doing his best to be prepared for anything, he actually stepped off the roof.

The window directly underneath him was already open. It hadn’t been when he’d approached the building. He came down just to the side of the window and, when he was level with the top floor, he peeked in.

The room was empty of any of the typical office furniture he’d been expecting. Really, it was empty of basically everything, the only furniture being an air mattress that was taking up a corner of the room. Near the air mattress was a boom box that appeared to be the source of the music, with a few brightly colored CD cases scattered on the ground next to it. And, in the center of the room, dancing to the music with his back to the window, was a man in a black leather jacket with the Superman S spray painted in bright red on the back.

Every instinct Tim had was screaming at him that this was a trap. Or if it wasn't a trap, then he was intruding on this guy's personal life. Of course, he wasn't entirely sure how to feel about the idea that this guy's personal life involved dancing in a mostly empty room on the top floor of an office building. But regardless, it wasn't like Tim was here to beat him up or anything, so he stepped into the room.

The man didn't seem to notice him. Idly, Tim thought about how easy it would be to just stab him in the back right now. But again, he wasn't here to beat him up; he was here to make friends. So instead, he cleared his throat and said, "You should really close your windows."

The man jumped about a foot in the air and whirled around to face Tim, who realised in an instant that "man" wasn't exactly an apt description. Sure he was at least half a foot taller than Tim, and sure he was a muscular Adonis, but his face was really young. He couldn't have been more than fifteen years old, sixteen max. He'd landed in a fighting stance, but his eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open in shock. It was actually kind of adorable.

Tim smirked and added, "You never know who might get in."

“Yeah?” the boy asked defiantly, “Who are you, then?” Tim was about to answer but the boy continued. “No, wait, don’t tell me. You’re some crook trying to mess with the good people of Honolulu, aren’t you?” He pointed an accusatory finger at Tim.

“What, no! I-”

“But you heard there was a new superhero in town, so you decided to get the jump on me when I least expected it!”

“What?” This was getting out of control fast. ”Look, if I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it alrea-”

“Well, joke’s on you, criminal, because I’m not falling for it!”

“What are you even talki-?”

“Well?” The boy punched his hand threateningly. “Any last words, criminal?”

“Oh for-” Tim swallowed a few expletives before practically shouting, “I’m not a criminal!”

“That’s exactly the kind of thing a criminal would say!”

“Look, if you would just listen-” The boy ran forward and tried to punch him, but Tim dodged. “For two seconds-” The boy swung at him again, and Tim stepped backwards to avoid it. His feet bumped up against the low window ledge. He mentally kicked himself for coming in through the window. While he was distracted, the boy swung at him a third time. He dodged sideways, intending to get around him, but this time he wasn’t quite fast enough and the boy’s fist grazed him. The force of it was still enough to send him hurtling backwards out the window.

And then he was falling. Toward the ground. Incredibly fast.


	2. A Very Long Way to Fall

Tim wasn't exactly thrilled to have been pushed out a window on the top floor of a 400 foot tall building, but this wasn't that catastrophic a turn of events. He'd been pushed out windows before, after all. He reached for his grapple, and his heart stopped when he remembered that it was still attached to the building he’d just been thrown out of. Without his grapple, he didn’t have a way to stop falling. At least, not one that didn’t end in his own death. Jeez, wasn’t he supposed to be the smart Robin?

Before he had time for panic to fully set in, the boy poked his head out the window, then dove out after him. A second later, and he caught him in midair, leveling off and hovering about a hundred feet above the ground.

“You can’t fly?” the boy asked, his voice laced with panic.

Giddy from the fall and the absurdity of the situation, Tim couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Oh? What could have possibly given you that idea?”

“I wouldn’t have thrown you from so high up if I knew you couldn’t fly!”

“How considerate of you,” Tim snarked, “In the future, I’d start automatically assuming that people can’t fly.”

“Yeah, that’s smart.” The boy nodded thoughtfully. “Wait, how’d you get in my window if you can’t fly.”

Tim stared at him in disbelief, but the boy looked genuinely perplexed. “I had a rope!” he answered, incredulously. He rubbed his arm where the boy had hit him. He could already tell it was going to bruise.

Wait. He’d been hit in the arm. But he’d gone flying straight backwards. How did that make sense?

He didn’t have much time to ponder that before the boy started talking again. “So I guess you’ve rethought this whole crime thing, huh?” he asked.

Part of Tim wanted to punch the smug grin right off his face, but the part of him that wanted to survive the night was stronger, so he swallowed his anger and a large part of his pride and said, as calmly as he could, “Like I said before, I’m not a criminal.” When it looked like the kid was going to object, he added, “I’m with the Teen Titans,” hoping that would buy him enough time to actually explain himself.

“Really?” the boy asked. Tim nodded.

He started looking at Tim more seriously, studying his costume. It was better than assuming he was lying, Tim supposed. After a moment, the boy gasped. “Are you Robin?” he asked, excitedly.

Tim considered his options, then threw out consideration and went for the straightforward approach. “Yes,” he said, “But I’m aaaAAAHHH!” His words morphed into a scream when the boy’s hands flew to his mouth and Tim found himself falling again.

A second later, the boy caught him again. “Whoops,” he said, chuckling.

Now Tim was really incredulous. “You dropped me!”

“Yeah, I got excited. Sorry.”

“We’re a hundred feet in the air!”

“More like eighty now.”

“I could have died!”

“Look, it was an accident, I’m sorry! It won’t happen again, I promise.”

He seemed sincere. Tim stared at him in utter disbelief. “Put me down!” After a moment’s thought he added, “Gently. At a survivable distance from the ground.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, of course!” The boy started drifting slowly toward the ground. Tim stewed in silence while he did, seriously reconsidering this whole recruitment thing. How had Dick done it with the original Titans? Of course, Dick hadn’t needed to go recruiting. The Titans had just kinda shown up. Why couldn't he be so lucky.

"Hey, so what were you-" the boy started.

Tim cut him off with a glare that might have rivaled Batman's. "No questions until we're on the ground," he snapped.

The kid made a face like a wounded puppy, then looked away from Tim, embarrassed. “Yeah, okay. That’s fine,” he muttered.

Tim was more than a little relieved when they finally made it to the ground. It was an awkward tangle of arms and legs trying to get out of the boy’s arms, and the only thing that kept him from landing in a heap on the sidewalk was Bruce’s gymnastics training, but he got himself straightened out in the end.

“I really am sorry,” the boy said. He was standing a few feet away from Tim, seemingly doing his best to burn a hole in the ground with his eyes. Without, you know, actually burning a hole in the ground with laser vision or something. Tim still wasn’t sure if he could even do that. Still, the intent was clear.

Tim sighed. “You haven’t been doing this for very long, have you?”

“I still should’ve known better. Shouldn’t have thrown you out a window in the first place.”

“Hey, we all make mistakes," Tim assured him, “Case in point, I should have known better than to sneak up on a guy who I knew was strong enough to effortlessly push me out a window... while I had my back to an open window." He shrugged. "Standard stuff, really.”

The boy laughed in spite of himself. He cast a sidelong glance at Tim. “Does that mean I’m not permanently banned from the Teen Titans?”

Tim considered for a moment. Even from the little bit he’d seen, he knew they could use a guy with his talents, especially if they got him some training. On the other hand, he still had a lot of unanswered questions. More than he’d had at the start of the night, even. He rubbed the bruise on his arm. He needed some time to think and to do some research, but he didn’t want to give up on the kid just yet.

“Tell you what,” he said, “How about I buy you lunch tomorrow and we can talk about it then.”

The boy perked up immediately. “Like a date?”

What. What? How did he get “date” out of that?

“More like a job interview,” he said hesitantly, “And an excuse for me to see more of Hawaii than the business district.”

Tim could have sworn the boy looked disappointed for a second, but it was quickly replaced by an excited grin. “Aw, sweet! There’s this place down in Waikiki that I’ve been dying to try!”

“Great! Let’s do that. Would you mind getting my rope for me?”

The boy looked confused for a second, but then a look of dawning realization crossed his face and he agreed, flying back up to the top of the building. He came back holding both ends of the grapple gun, one in each hand, the cord still loose between them, and presented it to Tim. While Tim was resetting the grapple, he gave him the details for the place in Waikiki, then started to fly back to his room. Before he got very far, Tim had a sudden thought and called after him, “Superboy!”

The boy stopped in midair and turned to face him. “It’s, uh, it’s Superman actually, but you know what, everyone makes that mistake. What is it?”

Tim honestly hadn’t really thought about what he was calling him. Superboy was just the first proper noun that came to mind. Still, it wasn’t worth discussing right now.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “Wear something a little bit more, uh, inconspicuous.”

The boy raised an eyebrow and said, “Uh… okay?” before turning and flying away. Tim was pretty sure he hadn’t understood what he meant by that, but he decided not to press the issue.

When he got back to his hotel, he saw that he had a missed call from Kid Flash. Curious, he called him back.

Bart picked up immediately. “Hey, Grandpa wants to know how the new Teen Titans is going.”

Tim laughed in spite of himself. Of course Barry wanted a status update.

“Tim, I don’t know if that’s good or not,” Bart said, “I wanna know how it’s going too, ya know, but I thought hey these things take ages, but Grandpa’s getting real impatient like he’s been kinda jittery so, ya know, news’d be good.”

This was pretty much how Tim’s conversations with Bart usually went, especially over the phone. He knew the kid would just keep rambling if he didn’t get a word in where he could, so he said, “It’s good. I’m on a recruitment trip right now, actually.”

“What really and you didn’t tell me?! Who is it?”

“Kid down in Hawaii. He’s been calling himself Superman.”

“Aw nice you got Kon?”

Tim took a second to parse that information.

“Tim?” Bart asked, “Tim are you still there? Hey you can’t just leave me hanging like this man this is crucial information like what if it’s not-”

“Bart,” Tim cut him off.

“Yeah?”

“Who’s Kon?”

Tim heard Bart’s voice catch over the phone. An unusually long pause later, he said, “Spoilers, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Tim said, “And I don’t have anyone yet. He threw me out a window tonight, and I’m meeting with him to talk more seriously tomorrow.”

There was a snicker and another uncharacteristically long pause. Bart was choosing his words carefully. Eventually, he settled on, “Okay, tell me how it goes.”

“Good job avoiding spoilers,” Tim commented. Bart laughed nervously. “I’ll call you once I know more, okay?”

They said their good-byes, and Tim tossed his phone back on the table, then collapsed onto the hotel’s bed.

“Kon, huh?” he said aloud to the empty air. The name did sound vaguely Kryptonian. He supposed he’d find out the next day at lunch.


	3. Not Quite Inconspicuous

The next morning, as soon as the shops opened, Tim dragged himself away from his research and down to a nearby cafe. Once coffee had been acquired, he went about preparing for his meeting with Superboy later that day. He didn’t want to go out in broad daylight as Red Robin if he could help it-- it wouldn’t do to attract too much unwelcome attention-- but he didn’t think Superboy had gotten the memo. Even if he had, the state of his apparent residence suggested that he might not have the resources to be inconspicuous. He wasn’t sure if the kid even had a secret identity. Sure, he had to have had a life before he was Superboy, but what about now?

His research hadn’t turned up much new information, but he hadn’t expected it to. Everything he had managed to find pretty much just confirmed suspicions he already had. The building he’d met him in, for instance. The top floor had been vacant for awhile, but a week and a half ago all listings advertising it had been closed without anyone actually renting it out. It was pretty clear to Tim that Superboy had struck a deal with the landlord, though Tim had no idea what the landlord was getting out of it.

Some mysteries, however, had just gotten frustratingly more mysterious. If Superboy really was Kryptonian, then there should have been some indication of his arrival on Earth. An asteroid falling to Earth, near-space activity that would have been picked up by the Justice League, weird lights in the sky, anything, but no, there was no evidence to suggest that anything like that had happened. And if he was human… well, that brought up even more questions. Who was he? Why was he living alone on top of an office building? How had he gotten his powers? Nothing unusual had happened in Hawaii recently save for a few volcanoes erupting-- which was hardly unusual for a state made entirely out of volcanoes. Not that that meant Superboy couldn’t be from Hawaii, but the lack of useable leads was frustrating.

Tim huffed, blowing some errand locks of hair out of his eyes, and tried to focus on the task at hand. He had to assume Superboy would be showing up as, well, Superboy, so he had to provide him with an alternative. Which meant shopping. An hour later, and he was on his way to Waikiki with a paper shopping bag full of casual clothes that at least roughly matched the kid’s size, a vegan leather jacket that didn’t have a bright red S on the back, and a pair of round sunglasses that he thought the kid would like.

Superboy was already there when he got to the restaurant, leaning against a nearby building with his arms crossed, actively scanning the crowd, presumably looking for him. Sure enough, he was wearing the same leather jacket and blue and red jumpsuit that he had been the night before. Tim smirked. He was almost too predictable.

“I thought I said to be inconspicuous,” he said, doing his best to project an air of cool confidence as he approached.

The boy started, and then squinted at him. After several seconds, he asked, “Robin?”

“Who else?”

“You’re not wearing a mask.” The boy’s face was a picture of absolute confusion. Interesting.

“And you have a giant red S on your chest,” Tim said simply, adjusting his sunglasses to better hide his eyes, “People are staring.”

“Yeah, I’m Superman,” the boy said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Besides, I kinda like it.”

Tim sighed. “I had been hoping not to draw any unwanted attention. I’m taking a big risk meeting you out in the open like this.”

Superboy blinked at him, obvious confusion back on his face. Then, he gasped, “Oh, cause it’ll ruin your image, huh? Gotham heroes are all broody and dark, it’s like the exact opposite of Hawaii.”

Tim had to fight the urge to laugh at the way he’d said that. “Among other things,” he said, doing his best to keep a straight face.

Superboy suddenly looked incredibly worried. “But… I don’t exactly have anything else.”

“Well, lucky for you, I was expecting this.” He handed Superboy the bag of clothes. “These should be the right size.”

“Whoa, you bought me clothes?” The boy peered into the bag in wonderment, then eyed Tim suspiciously. “Are you sure this isn’t a date?”

Again? “Positive.”

“Really?”

“Really. Job interview, remember?”

“Rats.”

The look of sheer disappointment on the kid’s face almost made Tim laugh again. He kept it together long enough to say, “Go change. I’ll meet you inside,” turn his back on the boy, and walk into the restaurant. Then he burst out laughing. If nothing else, this kid was an open book.

He composed himself quickly and approached the restaurant’s host. He’d called ahead, obviously, and dropped the Wayne family name just enough to get them a nice table in the back corner. It was secluded enough they didn’t have to worry about people listening in, but still allowed them to enjoy the general ambiance of the place.

A few minutes later, Superboy walked in. Tim waved him over to their table.

“How’s the fit?” he asked as the boy slid into the seat next to him.

“The shirt’s a little tight,” the boy said idly, “But I am loving these shades though! I can keep them, right?”

“I bought them for you,” Tim replied, doing his best to sound nonchalant. The boy grinned from ear to ear, and Tim smiled back at him, then flagged down a waiter.

Once they’d ordered, Tim said, “All right, Superboy-”

“Superman!” the boy cut him off. He sounded significantly more annoyed than he had the night before. Tim decided to ignore it for now.

“Right. How about we get started?”

“Sure,” he said. Then, after a beat, “I’ve never had a job interview before.”

“Not a problem. Let’s start with something easy.”

“Okay.” The boy smiled.

Tim smiled back. Then, he put on his serious face. Time to get down to business. “There’s something that’s been bugging me since last night. When you punched me-”

“I’m still really sorry about that, by the way.”

Tim paused. “It’s fine. Believe it or not, I’ve taken worse hits.”

“Really?”

“Please just let me ask the question.” Tim tried really hard not to sound annoyed. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like the boy could tell.

“Right, sorry,” he said, “Ask away.”

“Right. So when you punched me,” Tim paused for a second, trying to find the best way to phrase the question. “Well, it didn’t feel like a normal punch. And not in a super strength kind of way. It was more like, the forces were all wrong. With where you hit me, it should have pushed me to the side, but instead, I went straight backwards. Any idea why that is?”

“Yeah, that’s my tactile telekinesis.”

Tim took a sip of his drink, waiting for the boy to elaborate. When he didn’t, he prompted, “Tactile telekinesis?”

“Yeah. Here, let me show you.” The boy picked up his fork and held it so it rested in the palm of his hand. Then, without him moving a muscle, it started to move, shifting on his hand until the prongs were resting in the center of his palm, and then slowly standing up so it was balanced entirely on the prongs. Then, suddenly, it shot into the air, and the boy deftly caught it. “See?”

Tim did see. “I take it you can do that to anything you touch.”

“Yep.”

“Is there a weight limit?”

“If there is, I haven’t found it yet.”

“Interesting.” That certainly answered a few questions. Given that display, Tim thought it was pretty safe to say this kid wasn’t Kryptonian, though that didn’t mean he wasn’t some other type of alien. Or a metahuman. “So you can do that, you can fly-”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure my flight’s also tactile telekinesis.”

Tim stared at him for a second, trying to figure out the logic behind that. After a while, he decided to just ask him. “It is?”

“Yeah! It took me forever to figure it out!” The boy beamed. “So I can control whatever I touch, right? Well, you know what I’m always touching?”

Tim had a feeling he knew where this was going. “The air?”

“The air! Right! Wow, you’re smart.”

“It’s kind of my thing,” Tim said.

“Yeah! So basically, the way I fly is I kinda just pull on the air, and then I can just keep doing that until I’m wherever I want to go.”

That was fascinating. Insane, especially given that every other telekinetic he knew flew by using their telekinesis on themselves, but fascinating. And the fact he needed to figure out how he flew meant that he was able to use his telekinesis absolutely effortlessly. It showed an astounding amount of control, especially for someone who’d only been on the map for a few weeks.

“Any other powers?” Tim asked.

The boy’s face fell. “No,” he said, “I’m still trying to figure out how to activate heat vision. I’ve tried, honest, but I just can’t figure out how to turn it on. I don’t know how Superman does it!”

Tim gaped at him. Superman again. It all connected back to Superman. But how did it connect? His mind was racing furiously, but he couldn't figure it out. There was something he was missing here, something that would make everything click into place. But what was it?

"Um… you okay?" the boy asked.

"Why would you think you have heat vision?" Tim asked.

"Uh, because Superman has heat vision. And I'm Superman. Obviously." That tone again. Like he was confused as to why Tim was confused.

"Okay," Tim said, "Let's move on to that, then. Why Superman?"

The boy looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Tim took a deep breath. "You're calling yourself Superman, you've obviously branded yourself after Superman. I thought it was just an aesthetic choice or something, like you're a fan, but now you're telling me you think you should have the same powers as Superman, but I can't for the life of me figure out why. So, I'm going to ask you again. Why Superman."

"Oh! Because I'm his clone."


	4. Misinformed Conclusions and Earth-Shattering Revelations

The boy was Superman's clone. It made sense. Or, more accurately, Superboy's logic made sense. If he believed that, then Tim could understand why he thought the way he did, why he presented himself the way he did. But just as part of the puzzle clicked into place, other parts slipped out of focus.

"You're his clone?" Tim repeated.

"Yeah. Isn't it obvious?"

"Frankly," Tim said, "No. It's not. If anything, assuming you're telling the truth-"

"I am telling the truth!" he insisted.

"You think you're telling the truth," Tim corrected, "But your story has some pretty unavoidable holes."

The boy stared at him in disbelief. "Like what?"

"Like, if you're Superman's clone, why don't you have any of his powers?"

"I just showed you!" the boy protested. "Remember? The fork thing?"

"Superman can't do that," Tim said simply.

Superboy opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped. "What do you mean he can't do that?" he asked quietly.

"Superman's super strength and flight are just that. Super strength and flight," Tim explained, as calmly as he could. "Trust me, we've run quite a few tests. But you've just demonstrated that what you can do, while it can look the same to an outsider, is something wholly different."

"But… that can't be right." Superboy looked like his whole world had been shattered and Tim couldn’t really blame him, given that it pretty much had been. He couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy and he felt more than a little guilty, seeing as he was directly responsible for, well, shattering his world. At the same time, there was a mystery to be solved here, and he needed to keep Superboy involved if he had any hope of getting to the bottom of it. Besides, the kid deserved to know the truth about his own origins as much as anyone.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Tim said, trying his best to sound comforting or reassuring or anything vaguely not terrible. “This got way more intense than I was expecting.”

“No, I… I’m glad you told me, I just… that can’t be right,” he repeated, “I am Superman’s clone.”

“Why don’t you tell me more about, uh, your origin?” Tim suggested. “Maybe we can get to the bottom of this together.”

“I guess,” the boy didn’t seem too sure, but he started talking anyway, “So, most of my memories aren’t really my memories, right? It’s more like… implanted knowledge. I know all this stuff about superheroes and villains and that kind of thing. All sorts of other junk too, like math and science and literature, but mostly hero stuff. And there’s two, like, real big facts about me just in my head from moment one: I was made to replace Superman when he, uh, dies, and I’m supposed to be older.”

Tim perked up. “Older?”

“Yeah. Like, biologically, I’m, what, fifteen?”

“Ish, yeah.”

“Well, that’s because I was let out early. They weren’t done growing me, but the facility I was in, it was on one of the uninhabited islands and, well, the islands are volcanoes.”

“Huh.” Tim said, “You’d think a high tech scientific facility would have planned for something as predictable as a volcanic eruption.”

“Oh, they did,” Superboy assured him, “But, well, best laid plans and all that.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I don’t actually know what happened, seeing as I wasn’t, you know, alive at the time, but when I got out the place was abandoned, and totally trashed.”

“Understandable.” Tim nodded absently, thinking. “How did you get out?”

“Some of the other clones survived the eruption. It was this group of kids, they’d... we’d all been left behind when the scientists evacuated. When the smoke cleared, they found me in the wreckage. My, uh, containment… thingy had survived, but the power supply was super destroyed. I probably would have died if they hadn’t let me out when they did.”

“Sounds like you got lucky,” Tim commented.

“Oh yeah, totally,” Superboy agreed, “I was kinda disoriented because, like, obviously, but I knew the Newsboy Legion had done me a huge solid, so I gave them a lift to one of the islands with people and then-”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Tim interrupted, “Did you say the Newsboy Legion?”

“Yeah, you heard of them?”

“No, I just,” Tim fought back the urge to laugh, “That’s quite a name.”

Superboy looked at him for a second, then shrugged. “I guess. They were some pretty cool kids, though. Like, yeah, they saved my life, but they also gave me my jacket,” he gestured at the jacket he was wearing, then paused. “Well, my other jacket. Probably over on the mainland by now, though.”

Tim gave an acknowledging sort of grunt, then asked, “How long ago was this?”

“Um, about two weeks, why?”

Tim nodded. “Do you think you could get back to that island?”

Superboy looked puzzled. “Yeah, of course. Again, why?”

“Because,” Tim explained, “I think the key to us finding answers is on that island. And I, for one, would love to finally have some answers.”


	5. The Importance of Masks

Superboy had offered to fly them to the island, but Tim, remembering the fiasco the previous night, decided to rent a motorboat instead. Once they were far enough away from shore, Tim asked the boy to look away for a while and changed back into his Red Robin uniform. He wasn’t sure what they’d find on the island, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be good. He just hoped the place was actually abandoned like Superboy had claimed.

The boy had been uncharacteristically quiet as they’d gone and acquired the boat. Tim couldn’t exactly blame him, and he decided to give him time to process what he’d just learned. He used the time to go over the information himself, and to prepare for what they would find on the island.

A few minutes after he’d changed, the boy broke his silence. “How come you wear a mask?”

“Hm?” Tim asked, “What do you mean?”

“Like, I always assumed the mask was just part of the superhero aesthetic. Everyone wears them. Well, except Superman, I guess. But, I dunno, you weren’t wearing it this morning, and it got me thinking, why wear a mask at all? What’s it for?”

Tim blinked at him. “It protects my identity,” he answered honestly.

Superboy looked confused. “What do you mean? Everyone knows you’re Robin.”

“Well, yeah,” Tim said, “But I’m not Robin all the time. In fact, I’m not Robin at all anymore.”

“You’re not?” Superboy eyed him suspiciously.

“No,” Tim answered, “I gave the title to my successor a couple weeks ago. Now, I’m Red Robin. I meant to tell you last night but, well, you kinda dropped me.”

“Oh.” Superboy considered that for a second. “Okay,” he said hesitantly. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure what else there is to say. I wear the mask so no one knows who I am when I don’t wear-” Tim stopped suddenly. It occurred to him that Superboy, being a clone who had apparently only been alive for a few weeks, didn’t have an identity _other_ than Superboy. Or, Superman, but still. “Do you know about secret identities?” Tim asked.

Superboy shook his head.

“Okay, so I’m Red Robin, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m not always Red Robin. Frankly, I think it’d kind of be exhausting to _always_ be a superhero. When I’m not doing, well, this, I’m-” Tim hesitated, wondering how much he actually wanted to tell Superboy. “I’m Tim. Normal, super smart seventeen year old nerd, Tim.”

Superboy gaped at him. “You can do that?”

“Yeah. I can’t really think of anyone who doesn’t do that.”

“But why?” Superboy asked, “Why would you want to? Being a superhero is awesome!”

“I mean, yeah,” Tim admitted, “But it’s also dangerous. I have, well, I had a family. When I first became Robin, I would have done anything to keep them safe, and out of my crime-fighting life. But supervillains, especially Gotham supervillains, they don’t care about that stuff. If they knew who I was, they’d have gone after my parents. Tried to use them against me. And that terrified me.”

Superboy considered this, then nodded. “Okay,” he said, “But that was when you started. You said you don’t have that anymore. So why would you?”

“There’s other things to keep in mind. Being a superhero, it’s, well, it’s not exactly legal. We’re vigilantes. If the police found out who we really are, we’d be in almost as much trouble as the bad guys.”

Superboy looked appalled. “Why?” he asked.

Tim sighed. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d really rather not get into it. But the gist is that the law has rules and proper procedures that you need to follow in order to avoid exploiting or harming innocent people. Problem is, those rules make legal police work kind of inefficient, and a lot of the time they’re just plain ineffective. That’s where we come in.”

“I guess.” He sounded unsure.

“Plus,” Tim added, “Like I said before, it’d be kind of exhausting to be Red Robin all the time. I like being able to take off the mask and walk around without people recognizing me. Or even just recognizing that I’m a hero.”

Superboy considered that for a minute. “Is that why you weren’t wearing the mask when we met earlier?”

“Yeah,” Tim admitted, “I didn’t want people to know Red Robin was in Hawaii if I could help it. And I’m not exactly comfortable just… being a superhero in public. There’s a reason I’m one of the ‘broody and dark’ heroes.”

Superboy smiled. “I guess that makes sense.” He was quiet for a while before asking, “What about Superman? He doesn’t have a secret identity.”

“Superman’s secret identity wears glasses.”

Tim couldn’t help but laugh at the look on the boy’s face. He was pretty sure the kid’s world had been shattered again, but at least this time it was in a pretty innocent way. Plus, he would have found out about secret identities eventually.

“Does that mean I have to start wearing glasses?” Superboy asked, sounding mortified.

“If you want to have a secret identity, yeah, probably.”

“I’m never getting a secret identity,” Superboy asserted.

Tim laughed again. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said. Then, a thought occurred to him. “Do you have a name?”

“Yeah, Superman.” The boy smirked. “Why, did you forget already?”

“No, I mean, like how I’m Red Robin, but I’m also Tim.”

“Oh,” Superboy nodded, “Do I need one?”

Tim considered that for a moment. In truth, he wasn’t exactly comfortable with the idea that the boy was _just_ Superman, and he wasn’t completely sure why that was. He supposed it had to do with the fact that even the heroes who didn’t have a secret identity, like Starfire and Martian Manhunter, still used hero names that were different from their real names. But it wasn’t like there wasn’t precedent for what the boy was suggesting, Raven springing to mind as the obvious example. “I guess not,” he said, eventually.

”Cool,” the boy responded. He drifted back into silence for a while longer, staring out over the ocean, presumably considering everything he’d just learned. Tim found himself reflecting as well, especially on the conversation he’d had with Bart the previous night. “You found Kon?” he’d said. Tim still wasn’t sure if Superboy was the boy he was referring to. He certainly wasn’t “Kon” yet, but in the future? He wasn’t sure. He briefly wondered if he should try to probe Bart for more information about this Kon, but then dismissed it as a bad idea. The future would happen as it happened. And besides, Bart was pretty good at figuring out when people were trying to use him as a fortune teller. Sure, he let things slip on occasion, but it was surprisingly difficult to get him to slip up on purpose.

“We’re almost there,” the boy said.

Tim stood. They were approaching an island. Any further reflection would have to wait.


	6. Revelations

Fortunately, the island did seem to be abandoned like Superboy had said. Unfortunately, Tim knew all too well that appearances could be deceiving. He followed Superboy onto the island cautiously, keeping his senses on alert for any signs of danger.

The boy led him through a dense forest and to the opening of a cave. “It’s in there,” he said.

It occurred to Tim, not for the first time, that the boy could easily be leading him into a trap. And, not for the first time, he pushed the thought aside. He didn’t know this boy very well, true, but all his instincts were telling him that he was one of the most honest, open books of a person on the planet. Besides, even if he was wrong, he still had a supply of Kryptonite stashed in a lead-lined pouch in his utility belt. And if it turned out the Kryptonite didn’t work? Well, he was more than capable of taking care of himself.

Still, even if he did think Superboy was being honest, that didn’t mean he shouldn’t be careful. The boy thought the place had been abandoned, but he’d been wrong about a lot of things. Best to assume he was wrong about this too until he got proof to the contrary. He activated the night vision setting on his mask, and when it didn’t reveal anything other than, well, the inside of a cave, he gestured for Superboy to go in. “After you,” he said.

Superboy entered the cave and Tim followed. It didn’t take long for metal support structures to start appearing on the damp rock walls. Looking up, Tim saw pipes and wires running across the walls as well. Definitely tells for a secret base.

“Sorry,” Superboy said suddenly, “It’s kinda hard to see for this bit.”

“I have night vision in my mask,” Tim said.

“Oh,” Superboy said awkwardly. After a moment, he added, “I guess masks do kinda come in handy.”

It was a few seconds before Tim remembered that the boy didn’t have Superman’s vision powers. He probably couldn’t really see at all in the cave, moving forward by feel. With that realization, Tim became very conscious of the fact that the boy’s hand was on the wall, softly running across it as he walked.

He briefly wrestled with whether he should pull out a light to help the kid out. The obvious drawback would be that it would remove any advantage that approaching in the darkness would give them. But at the same time, a high tech base like this almost certainly had sensors that would have detected their presence with or without a light, so he pulled out his flashlight and switched it on, simultaneously turning off the night vision in his mask to avoid blinding himself.

Superboy shut his eyes against the sudden light. When he recovered, he gaped at Tim. “You had a flashlight this whole time?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Tim replied, “I didn’t realize you couldn’t see in the dark.”

He offered the flashlight to Superboy, who snatched it out of his hand with a huff and started forward again. So he can get angry, Tim thought, amused.

After a minute or so more, the tunnel they were walking through abruptly ended, the flashlight illuminating a large, heavy looking metal door.

“Hold this for a second,” Superboy held out the flashlight, and Tim took it, shining it along the edges of the door, revealing that the cave walls closed in slightly in this area. The door itself had been ripped from the mechanisms that once allowed it to open and then sloppily wedged back in between the walls.

“Do you mind?” Superboy asked. He was standing directly in front of the door, one hand firmly planted on its smooth surface and the other grasping the edge in a place where it didn’t make complete contact with the cave wall. “I could use a little light on what I’m doing.”

“Right, sorry,” Tim focused the flashlight on him.

“Thanks,” Superboy said. And then he pulled at the door, effortlessly ripping it back out from between the walls. He took a few steps back, pivoting so the door was parallel with the wall and set it back down, Tim doing his best to keep the flashlight on him and avoid getting trampled. When he let go of it, the door fell against the wall with a loud thunk. Then, he walked confidently into the space. Tim followed cautiously.

“There should be a light switch around here somewhere,” Superboy said, feeling around on the wall right behind where the door would have been.

“How do you know the place even has-” Tim was cut off when Superboy found the switch, and a harsh fluorescent light flooded the space, loud sounds indicating that other lights were turning on in other areas. “-power,” Tim finished. He clicked off the flashlight.

“I’m pretty sure it’s hooked up to the volcano,” Superboy said. “It worked when I got out of here, so I guess it survived the eruption.”

Tim was barely listening. He stepped forward, taking in the cavern they were in. It was large and open, metal accents and mechanisms embedded in the cave walls. The two of them were standing on a ledge overlooking the facility. It was, in fact, trashed, like Superboy had said it would be. Many of the instruments were buried in or had been crushed by debris, and on the far side of the space, Tim could see some other access tunnels that had been flooded by now-hardened lava. It was a miracle the lights still worked.

What drew Tim’s attention, though, was a large chamber in the center of the room. The glass had been shattered, but this was clearly the chamber in which Superboy had been grown. And, to Tim’s horror, he recognized the design.

“This is a Cadmus facility,” he said in disbelief.

“Is that important?” Superboy asked.

Tim turned and stared at him. “Did you know?” he demanded.

“Yeah,” Superboy affirmed, “It’s one of the things they put in my head.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was important.” The boy shrugged. “Cadmus is just a research company, right?”

“Just a-” Tim couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Cadmus kidnaps metahumans and does experiments on them! They’re one of the most immoral companies I’ve ever heard of. And they were doing this?” He gestured broadly at the cavern around them.

Superboy’s eyes widened. “They kidnap people?”

“Yes, they do!” Tim snapped, “I take it they didn’t think that was important enough to tell you about.”

Superboy looked shocked, then revolted. “That’s horrible! Why would anyone do that?!”

Tim left the question unanswered, his mind working furiously. Superboy had been created by Cadmus. That presented three notable and equally revolting possibilities for his actual origin. One, he was a metahuman they’d kidnapped and then brainwashed. He felt like that was less likely given the cloning technology in the room, but it warranted consideration. Two, he was the clone of a metahuman they’d kidnapped. That possibility made more sense to Tim; take someone unknown with a similar powerset to Superman, and then clone them to create someone loyal who could hold his own in a fight with Superman. Of course, there was also possibility three: Cadmus had managed to get ahold of some of Superman’s DNA, and they’d been mucking with it trying to create a clone that could match up to him. That possibility terrified Tim, especially since it meant that, in the likely event they considered Superboy a failed experiment, they almost certainly had the resources to try again.

The difference between options two and three was staggering, and Tim realized he needed some indication of which was really true, and the sooner the better. Superboy seemed to be having similar thoughts, since he said, “What if I’m not really Superman’s clone? What if I’m one of those metahumans?”

Tim sighed. He wouldn’t have the time or the resources to analyze the kid’s DNA until he got back to the Batcave. If any of these computers were still functional, he might be able to hack into them, but he seriously doubted that Cadmus wouldn’t have remotely wiped any data that was still there. But, if they could answer whether the kid was human or Kryptonian, that would be a strong clue toward the actual truth. “There is… something we can do,” he said.

“What?” Superboy asked.

“You’re not going to like it,” Tim said, “And the results aren’t going to be conclusive. If you are Superman’s clone, it’s obvious they messed with your DNA but-”

“Do it,” Superboy said. Tim was shocked at how sure he sounded. “If it’ll help you figure this out, then it’s fine. Do it.”

“Okay,” Tim said. He opened a pouch on his utility belt, pulled out a small lead box, and flipped it open.

Superboy’s reaction was immediate. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, and a pained groan escaped his lips. He looked at Tim, saw the green glow emanating from the box and asked in a strained voice, “Is that Kryptonite?”

His voice sounded weak and strained and Tim quickly snapped the box shut. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine.” Superboy still looked like he was in pain, but he was recovering quickly. And weirdly, he was smiling. “I guess that means I really am Superman’s clone.”

“It at least means you’re Kryptonian. Or, at least, part Kryptonian,” Tim said, “I’ll need to run more tests to find out for sure.”

Superboy nodded. It seemed like he wasn’t going to say anything more, but after a moment he said, “I guess it’d be pretty cool to be Supergirl’s clone too.”

It was so sudden and unexpected that Tim couldn’t help but laugh. “Glad you’re so open-minded,” he said.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Superboy asked.

Tim shrugged. While it was very likely they wouldn’t get any more information from this base, he figured it would at least be worth getting a closer look at some of the equipment. No harm in taking a little extra time to see if someone had made a mistake when they were cleaning up. “Can you get me down there?” he asked.

“Are you sure?” Superboy asked.

“Yeah. I want to check out those computers, and the stairs are busted.”

“If you say so,” Superboy said, “Just… give me a minute.”

Tim nodded. After a few minutes, the boy experimentally hopped into the air, and, after hovering uncertainty for a few moments, said, “Okay, I’m ready.”

And with that, they started exploring the abandoned Cadmus base.


	7. The Nature of Names

It was dark out when they finally left the cave. As he’d suspected, most of the device there were damaged beyond repair, and the few that were usable didn’t yield much information. Tim resigned himself to needing to run a proper DNA test on Superboy in order to actually get to the bottom of the mystery.

At the very least, Superboy was a willing participant. Most of his participation that afternoon amounted to moving heavy things so Tim could access the machinery behind or underneath it, but in fairness, he was very good at that. And he agreed to let Tim take a blood sample just as soon as he was able. He wanted to know the truth about his genetic makeup just as much as Tim did.

He seemed pretty exhausted when they finally got back to the boat, though. Tim couldn’t blame him. It had been a long day, and he’d had more than a few troubling revelations. He left him to his thoughts and started up the boat, steering them away from the island.

Once they were on course for the port in Waikiki, he got out his communicator and sent Bruce a brief update about the abandoned Cadmus base. He left out the details about Superboy being the product of one of Cadmus’s experiments. He knew he’d have to tell him eventually, but he also knew that Bruce would react with suspicion. Tim knew he should be suspicious as well. As one of Cadmus’s experiments, he had every reason to believe that Superboy was still working for Cadmus and just trying to get on his good side. And yet, he just couldn’t bring himself to believe that this kid had it in him to be a spy for anyone. He just radiated this sort of innocent genuineness. Frankly, it was adorable. But he’d have to be careful with how he presented the kid to Bruce to make sure he saw what Tim did.

Still, even if Superboy meant well, there was no telling what Cadmus had put in his head. He’d have to see what measures he could take to make sure any programming they’d given him was negated before very long. But that was a problem for later. For now, Tim was willing to accept that Superboy was a good kid who meant well. Other questions could wait until he had better equipment.

Still, there was one question he could probably get answered now. “Hey Superb-, uh, Superman?”

“What?” Superboy asked sleepily.

“I’m just curious, why did you stay in Hawaii?”

Superboy sat up. “What do you mean?”

“Like, Superman’s home is Metropolis. Why not go there?”

“I did,” Superboy answered, “That’s how I found out he was still alive.”

“Oh,” Tim said, “Sorry.”

“No, it’s a good question,” Superboy said, “I was real confused when I saw him just out there, fighting crime, but I figured, hey, I was probably a contingency plan or something. So the world would still have Superman if anything happened to him. I figured I probably wasn’t supposed to be let out until the world actually needed a replacement. So, since I was already out, I figured I’d just lay low until that happened.”

Tim nodded. It made sense. “Why go back to Hawaii, though?”

“Are you kidding?” Superboy asked, grinning. “Why wouldn’t I come back to Hawaii? It’s beautiful, the ocean is awesome, and the beaches are just absolutely crawling with babes and, uh, boy babes. Hunks? Hunks!”

For what seemed like the millionth time that day, Tim fought back the urge to laugh. This time, Superboy noticed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“You just,” Tim said, chuckling, “You really just have no filter, huh?”

The boy cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Tim waved it away, “The ocean is pretty awesome.”

“Right?” Superboy grinned. “It’s so big and blue and wet, I love it.”

Tim smiled back. “But, well, how would you feel about moving to the contiguous states?”

“Why?” Superboy gasped. “Do you want me to move in with you?”

“God no, Batman would murder me,” Tim said without thinking.

Superboy looked disappointed. Then he asked, “Would you want me to move in with you if Batman was okay with it?”

Tim blinked at him. “That is definitively not what I meant and you know it.”

“Yeah,” Superboy admitted. “But I’m not sure what you actually meant.”

Tim sighed. “I mean, if you’re going to be part of the Teen Titans, it’d be pretty inconvenient for you to be out here in the middle of the ocean. What if there’s an emergency and we just really need a guy with tactile telekinesis?”

Superboy nodded thoughtfully. “But if I don’t live with you, where am I gonna live?”

Tim shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. Worst case, I put you up in a hotel somewhere until we’re sure Titans Tower is livable, and then you’ll live there.” Superboy looked skeptical about that option, but Tim continued, “But I was figuring we’d call Superman and talk to him about taking you in.”

Now, Superboy looked excited. “You think he’d do that?”

“I don’t see why he wouldn’t,” Tim said, “You are basically his son, after all.”

“Aw man, that’d be so cool!” Superboy exclaimed. “I bet I’d like Metropolis. I wasn’t there for very long last time, but everything’s just so big! Wait… would I have to change my name if I lived in Metropolis?”

“Not to be, uh, the rudest ever, but you might want to consider a name change anyway,” Tim said.

“Why?”

“Well, to avoid brand confusion, I guess,” Tim said, “Like, everyone associates ‘Superman’ with the big blue boy scout in Metropolis. And, well, let’s just say I’m trying really hard to picture him in a leather jacket and I just cannot do it.”

“But leather’s awesome!”

“I mean, yeah, but it’s not a look everyone can pull off,” Tim reasoned. He decided not to mention that the jacket made Superboy look distinctly counter-cultural. It clearly suited him, and at the end of the day, that was what mattered.

“I guess,” Superboy said, “So, what do you think I should start calling myself?”

“Have you considered that Superboy is more of an observation of your youth than it is an insult?”

Superboy made a face. “I guess.” Tim would clearly need a more compelling reason.

“Besides,” he added, “Basically all of us teenagers have to deal with that. Like, me, Red Hood, and Nightwing all had to be Robin for a while, Kid Flash is, well, _Kid_ Flash, and basically every speedster that got their start before adulthood’s gone by that. And then there’s Aqualad, Beast Boy for an example who isn’t a sidekick…”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Superboy interrupted, “But really? Superboy?”

“It establishes you as connected to Superman while still being a different person, it acknowledges your relative youth, and no one’s saying you can’t change your name after a few years. After all, that’s what I did.”

“Okay, but you barely changed your name.”

Tim glared at him. “Fine. That’s what Nightwing did. And Arsenal. I can probably come up with more if you really want me to.”

“Nah,” Superboy smiled. He was silent for a minute before shrugging. “I guess I could be Superboy for a while.”

“Oh thank God.”

Superboy gave him a sidelong glance, “Hang on, what do you mean by that?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Tim said.

“Nuh-uh,” Superboy objected, “I may be young, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Do you really not want me calling myself Superman that much?”

Tim paused for a second. “Kinda?”

“It’s… look maybe you’ll understand when you meet him. You may be his clone, but you are a very different person.”

Superboy regarded him, then sighed. “Fine.”

They sat in silent for a minute before he asked, “What did you mean when you said you needed to make sure Titans Tower is livable?”

“Exactly what I said,” Tim replied, “It hasn’t been used in a few years. It probably needs renovations.”

“It hasn’t been used?”

“I thought Cadmus gave you an encyclopedic knowledge of superheroes.”

“Yeah, because everything Cadmus gave me has been 100 percent accurate.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tim conceded. “The Teen Titans haven’t been active in a few years. I’m trying to restart the team.”

“Oh,” Superboy said. After a moment, he added, “Who else do you have?”

“You heard of Kid Flash?” Tim asked.

“Didn’t he die?” Superboy asked.

“There’s a new one,” Tim clarified, “He’s been around for a couple years.”

Superboy nodded. “What’s he like?”

“Don't worry. You'll like him,” Tim said.

“What makes you so sure?” Superboy smirked.

“Trust me,” Tim said.

“Maybe I should meet him and judge for myself.”

“Well, I’ll make sure that happens as soon as possible,” Tim said.


	8. The Boy Gets a Name

It turned out, as soon as possible was a lot sooner than Tim thought. When they got to shore, Tim had suggested that Superboy come back to his hotel with him, mostly out of concern, given that the alternative was an air mattress in an office building. And, after clearing up that, no, Tim was not trying to hit on him, give it up, man, it’s not happening, Superboy had agreed.

When Tim had approached the room, there was noise coming from inside. Opening the door, he saw Bart Allen lounging on the bed, watching cartoons.

“KF?” he asked.

Bart looked up. “Oh hey, you’re back!” In an instant, he was standing at the doorway, peering over Tim at Superboy. “Aw nice you brought the new guy!”

“What are you doing here?” Tim asked.

“I wanted to meet the new guy, obviously.” Bart stepped back to let them in the room. “Plus, I thought you could use some help but by the time I got here you were already gone.”

Tim had a strong suspicion that Bart hadn’t tried very hard to find him. “Does Flash know you’re here?” he asked.

“Yeah of course, I’ve been here for like hours.”

Tim raised an eyebrow.

“Please don’t tell Flash I was watching TV. I was supposed to do homework if I couldn’t find you.”

Tim sighed. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Thanks Double R!” Bart zipped over and hugged him, then zipped over to stand in front of Superboy, studying him. “So you’re the new guy huh?”

“Uh, yeah,” Superboy said, “You must be Kid Flash.”

“Yep!” Bart grinned. “But you can call me Bart when we’re in private. I’m not near as stuffy about codenames as ol’ Double R over there.”

“Secret identities are important, Bart,” Tim protested.

“He told me his name was Tim,” Superboy said.

Bart gasped, and suddenly he was back in front of Tim, staring up at him suspiciously. “Who are you and what have you done with Timothy Drake-Wayne?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “He didn’t know about secret identities. I was explaining.”

“He didn’t?” Bart asked. “Oh yeah I guess that makes sense.”

“It does?” Superboy asked.

“Yeah, cause you’re-” Bart caught himself and made a sudden subject change. “How old are you?”

“About two weeks?” Superboy answered. He looked terribly confused.

“Oh okay cool cool cool,” Bart responded, nodding thoughtfully.

“That mean anything to you, future boy?” Tim snarked.

“I’ll never tell,” Bart said brightly.

“Future boy?” Superboy asked.

“Oh yeah I’m from the future,” Bart answered. “No spoilers though, it’s against the rules.”

“Aw, nice!” Superboy answered, “What’s it like in the future?”

“It’s pretty sweet,” Bart said, “But again no spoilers so I can’t tell you more.” He zipped back to the bed, sitting cross-legged and facing Superboy. “So what’s your name?”

“Superboy.”

Bart rolled his eyes. “No that’s your codename. What’s your name? Unless you wanna be a Tim about it.” Tim glared at him, and Bart added, “Which I would totally understand and respect if you did, but still.”

“I don’t have any other names,” Superboy answered.

“Oh,” Bart said. A look of dawning realization crossed his features. “Oh! Well that’s just no good, you’ll have to come up with one.”

Superboy looked distinctly confused. “Why?”

“Everyone has a name,” Bart said, “It’s weird if you don’t.”

“But I do have a name. I just told you, it’s Superboy.”

“And I just told you that’s not a name, it’s a codename. It’s basically just a job title.”

“It… is?” Superboy asked.

Tim decided to bail him out. “Okay, Bart, why don’t you tell us his name, then,” he snarked, “Since you’re obviously just trying to get him to tell you so you can use it.”

Bart opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it and eyed Tim suspiciously. “Nuh-uh,” he said. “And besides, I can’t be the one who comes up with it because I already know what it is from the future. Then no one will have come up with it and that’s like Beethoven’s paradox. You can’t just do that.”

“You can’t, huh?” Tim asked.

“Do you want a paradox?” Bart fired back. “I didn’t think so.” He stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Tell you what? You guys figure it out, I’m gonna go get something to eat.” He zipped over to Tim. “Can I borrow ten dollars?”

Tim sighed. “Take twenty and get us something too. We haven’t had dinner yet.”

“You’re the best, Tim.” Bart zipped over to the place where Tim left his backpack and extracted some money. Then he zipped over to the door. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Tim and Superboy stood in silence for a moment. “You were right,” Superboy said after a while, “I do kinda like him.”

“Yeah, he’s a good kid,” Tim said, “We won’t hear the end of it if we don’t at least talk about names, though.”

“I guess,” Superboy said, “Any ideas?”

Tim thought about it. He found himself thinking back to his conversation with Bart from the night before again. He still wasn’t sure if Superboy was the Kon Bart had been referring to, but he found himself drawn to the sound of it. But Kon was, well, the mouthfeel was a little weird to just say “Kon” all on its own. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t build on it. “How about Connor?” he suggested.

“Connor…” Superboy repeated, “I like it.”

“Great,” Tim said, “I officially dub you Connor Kent. Actual paperwork pending.”

“Kent?”

Tim paused. Had he really just given away Superman’s last name? Honestly, he should be better than this. But, well, he was going to learn it eventually. “Yeah,” he said, “That’s Superman’s last name.”

Superboy nodded. Then he smiled. “I’m really going to be part of his family, huh?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Connor Kent…” he said again, feeling the name out. He grinned.


End file.
